Page 13 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Drying the mugs, she put them away and stifled a yawn with her hand. “I generally get up at seven or so, but you’re welcome to sleep in because I’m not heading to the hospital till late afternoon since Chase and Cat are taking turns sitting with Miss Lilly. The spare bedroom is made up with fresh sheets, and for privacy and convenience, you can use the main bathroom, and I’ll use Miss Lilly’s. The pantry is well-stocked and so is the Keurig cannister if you ever prefer that to the pot.”

Folding the towel neatly on the counter, she headed toward the staircase with a wave and a smile. “Douse the lights when you’re done if you will, and if you need anything, Brec, just knock on my door.” She paused on the first step with a wicked smile. “Just keep in mind that I sleep with a gun.”

His rich chuckle followed her up the stairs. “Branded into my brain, I assure you, Miss Stewart,” he said with an answering wave. “Sleep tight—just not too tightly because we don’t want the bloomin’ thing to go off.”

Laughing, she shook her head and mounted the steps, thinking Brec being around might be a welcome addition after all, because all at once the house felt less lonely. She hummed “God’s Not Dead” under her breath as she passed Miss Lilly’s room and slowed to a stop, suddenly remembering Miss Lilly’s request for Molly to bring her Bible to the hospital tomorrow. Flipping the light on, she strode to the nightstand where the Bible lay and scooped it up, halting halfway to the door. What the heck …?

She hadn’t noticed before, but a number of Miss Lilly’s drawers were open, their contents rumpled and hanging out.

“I saw some hooded upstart a-riflin’ through my drawers right afore he gagged me with a cloth that smelled sweet.”

Molly’s breath came hard and fast as she walked like a sleepwalker herself over to the disheveled drawers to study them more closely, desperately hoping it was just a result of Miss Lilly acting out her dream. Smoothing the contents, she closed each one and swallowed hard. Yes, that’s what it had to be—Miss Lilly acting out her dream.

Please, God?

Sucking in a deep breath, she left the room with Miss Lilly’s Bible clutched to her chest, anxious to get into bed and spend a little time reading her own. Until she passed the closed door of Miss Lilly’s husband’s office.

Her heart stopped a ragged pulse beat before her feet. The door was closed as always, but this time something was different. You could see a sliver of door jamb that wasn’t usually there.

“House must be a-settlin’,” Miss Lilly had told her once when she’d first shown Molly her husband’s office, “’cause this door sticks like it’s painted with molasses.” She’d promptly butted a skinny hip against it to force it open. “So, we have to pull it closed real good when we leave ’cause Harold sure did hate things off-kilter.”

Off-kilter. Molly’s aspiring detective instincts kicked in.

Kind of like Miss Lilly’s drawers.

Tucking the Bible under her arm, she rammed her side into the door with all her weight while turning the knob, and it flew in along with her. She flipped the switch and light flooded the room, which upon first glance looked the same as usual.

Brow buckled, she scanned the room, trying to remember if anything appeared amiss. But she’d only been inside a few times now and then to get something for Miss Lilly because the sweet old woman avoided going in there, so Molly strained to remember. Moving toward the desk, she noted the chair seemed slightly pushed back, but she supposed she could have left it that way when she’d been here last.

Taking a closer look, she paused over the paid-bill stubs Miss Lilly always neatly stacked in the to-be-filed basket, which were now slightly askew. Uneasy, she looked down and gasped when she saw man-size shoe imprints on the plush area rug beneath the chair—the one she’d recently vacuumed after noting pencil sharpener shavings a few weeks back.

Heart pumping, she raced from the room and into the hall, bolting down the stairs so fast, she crashed right into Brec, who stood wide-eyed at the base of the steps. Suddenly aware she was clutched in his arms, she quickly backed up to the next step to dislodge his hold, trying to remain calm like a true detective would be.

But her thundering pulse didn’t follow suit, making her breathing as eratic as her thoughts. “Please tell me you’ve been in your Uncle Hal’s study!”

Blinking several times, he slowly shook his head. “No, I haven’t, not since I was eighteen. Why?”

A low groan scraped through her lips as she sagged against the handrail, her worst fears confirmed, along with her worst nightmare.

She’s going to die …

“Molly, tell me—what is it?” Brec rasped, giving her body a slight shake.

Forcing herself to calm down, she pulled away and sucked in a deep draw of air, determined to treat this like any other mystery instead of as a threat to someone she cared for. Swallowing hard, she looked up with a firm set of her jaw. “I think Miss Lilly may be right. Someone’s been in this house.”